To Their Surprise
by Storiest
Summary: What if Marisol had survived? 3 chapters of romantic speculation, fluff, and action. No apologies.
1. Chapter 1

How would things have been different if Marisol had survived? She was the beginning of Horatio's redemption, and if she hadn't died I think he would have become a very different person. And she gave writers so much latitude with that line, "He is not the same man you see at work." So I feel that gives a lot of latitude, without going to OOC. I do try to keep them in character, but since these are "behind the scenes" I hope to bring that Horatio out a little. This is AU from the shooting in 4x24 Rampage.

* * *

After that funny, awkward moment in front of the Lab building all sense of discomfort about Marisol faded away. And later, Horatio knew he was in trouble at the jolt of joy and then sorrow that struck him when Eric gave them his blessing, and warned him about the severity of her illness. But in keeping with his own philosophy of living life to the full, due to its uncertainty, Horatio resolved to give all he could to the budding…relationship? Later that day he called her, and made a dinner date for late the next day. That set the tone for the next week or two. They would see each other, every other day or so. Then they started speaking on the phone, every night before bed.

Finally, Horatio admitted to himself that he was falling for the girl. And he knew he was placing her already precarious life in further jeopardy. The Mala Noche were still circling the edge of his life. And he had not been careful when he agreed to meet Rachel for dinner. Resden must have followed him to her house. Since then he had developed a routine of checking for surveillance when he left work. He resolved to give Marisol a free choice. So, one night, he suggested she come to his house for dinner.

Marisol knew that Horatio was a very reserved person, and didn't invite emotional displays, although he stayed calm and patient through them. Nor did he invite physical closeness. At first this was a relief, that she could date a man, and just enjoy his company, and truly get to know him, without the expectation of having to sleep with him. And she noticed right away the layers of complexity to him. She could see he had an old soul, and that he was deeply scarred by life.

She noticed that he would only hold her hand, or hug her, in the privacy of her apartment, when he brought her home from a date. She began to wonder what else was holding him back. When he invited her to his house she felt they were crossing over into some new territory. She was meticulous with her appearance that evening.

All thought of the serious discussion he wanted to have with her fled his mind when he first opened the door to the vision on his doorstep. She was breathtakingly beautiful, in a blue silk sheath dress with accents of gold at the hem and neck. The material shimmered in the light. In her heels, she was almost even with his height. Her hair was a beautiful cloud around her perfect face. He stood there, gazing at her. He had seen eyes like that in famous paintings, but never in real life had he seen eyes like hers.

"Horatio," teased Marisol.

"Yes, Marisol," he responded.

"Can I come in?" she asked, dimpling.

"Yes, yes, of course, I'm sorry. You look amazing!" he confusedly replied. Marisol was delighted to have shaken his usually iron composure. He conversely looked a little bemused, and not quite cross.

He took her bag and her wrap, and put them in the front closet. Then he showed her his home. It was neat, and she noticed, not quite as spartan as his office. A tall bookcase, full of books on a variety of subjects, and a cd tower of a variety of music showed her a bit of his tastes, which were very eclectic.

He had prepared a simple but tasty meal, and she noticed that as they ate he became gradually quieter, almost withdrawn. He was dreading the coming conversation, and realized that he was already deeply attached to Marisol. She was becoming concerned, and when she decided she couldn't take the tension anymore, she spoke.

"What's troubling you, Horatio?" she asked. "You're obviously worried. Is something wrong at work?"

"Not exactly, but it is my work I want to talk about," he replied, setting down his fork. "Marisol, I have really enjoyed the last two weeks with you. I don't think I have relaxed this much, or opened up this much with anyone, in over a decade. And there are valid reasons for my isolation. I need you to know some things, before we continue, to give you the freedom to choose, now, before our emotions get too wound up in each other."

"Ok," she replied simply. She was a little alarmed, but she knew this was the famous Horatio Caine, the legendary lieutenant of the police force, and the head of Miami-Dade crime lab. She knew from her brother Eric that Horatio was a complex, intense person. She had seen that right off, when he had helped her through her own legal issues.

"You may have heard of the Mala Noche," began Horatio. "The media call them a gang, but they are really a criminal cartel. They have tried to break into Miami with gun running and assassination multiple times, but the police have been fairly successful at holding them back. Because of my involvement with some of those cases they have put a price on my head." He said nothing more about his involvement with this police effort.

Marisol flinched at these words and recoiled slightly. Internally Horatio died a little, he could easily believe she would retreat from him now. But she leaned back toward him, and laid both her hands on his arm.

"I'm not telling you this to frighten you," he continued. "I guess, really, I am trying to make you afraid a little, but for yourself, not for me. I would understand if you didn't want to see me anymore, knowing this."

"Oh, Horatio," cried Marisol. "It's too late for that. We both have uncertain futures, don't we? Shouldn't we just live to the full? You have only mentioned my illness a few times, but you've always focused on the positive, the hopeful, even though your own life has been so hard. Can't we just do that? Just do what we want, what feels right for us?

At these words, something snapped in Horatio, he surged up and took her in his arms. Marisol found herself the recipient of one of the most intense kisses of her life. Horatio kissed with the same single-minded intensity he invested in anything he did.

"Marisol, Marisol," he exclaimed. She loved the way he said her name, with the extra accent on the o, and the little note of surprise, as if he couldn't believe he was entitled to see her, or say her name.

Marisol wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back. They kissed rather frantically for a moment, then Horatio came to his senses and began to gentle it. He led her from the dining room to the living area, and pulled her down next to him on the couch. They sat together, her head on his shoulder, while they caught their breath.

"Well, now I guess I understand why you never kiss me in public. That could get embarrassing." she said lightly. He chuckled. She felt a little thrill of victory at shaking his composure, and getting him to laugh. He didn't laugh enough, she knew. "And I remember, when I first offered to make you dinner, you said that my brother being your employee was only a part of what made you hesitate."

"Well, yes, public displays of affection are never going to be part of my personality," replied Horatio. "But part of the reason for that is to protect you. I need you to understand, being involved with me means risk to yourself. You may need to change the way you do things, how you travel to any work you do, where you shop, the patterns you have in daily life."

"And the rest of the reason?" she asked, not distracted by the alterations in her daily life he was suggesting.

"Marisol, I led a nightmarishly bad childhood and youth," hesitantly explained Horatio. "Eventually, I did terrible things, to get free of that life. My whole adulthood, from then till now, has been in atonement, as a form of penance, for sins I committed as a teen" She stirred, but he forestalled the question on her lips. "I'm not…ready to talk about that yet. Perhaps sometime soon, I'll be able to tell you. Can you accept that?"

She did him the courtesy of pondering her answer carefully before replying. "Horatio, I know you are an honorable man, and a man of integrity. My brother admires you and looks up to you. He may have a little hero worship going on." At this Horatio tried to negate what she was saying, but she stopped him with her fingers on her lips. "These weeks with you have been so refreshing, so positive. I can see your reserve, caused in part by these terrible scars on your soul. It's there in the weariness in your shoulders in the evenings, the pain in your eyes, when you don't realize I'm watching. I'm honored that you let me in that far. If there's more, I'll wait till you are ready to tell it. For now, just know that I trust you to do the right thing, now and in the future. You've learned from your past, and you're trying to make amends for it. I can at least understand that."

He thought he might actually weep for her gentle understanding, but he contained himself. Instead he drew her close and kissed her again. They both felt they had crossed a barrier holding their emotions back.

That evening was followed by several delightful weeks. He would arrange to see her whenever his schedule allowed. Sometimes it was with little or no notice, which was partly the nature of the job, and partly by design. It made their appearances in public unpredictable. Horatio took some gentle ribbing from Eric and Frank, but they both knew better than to cross any real lines.

He was amazed at how she seemed to know what he was feeling at any given moment. He didn't realize that he had so relaxed in her presence that she had learned to read the tiny expressions around his eyes and mouth. He wasn't a very talkative man, but when he listened she had learned to watch his face.

Marisol was surely falling in love with him and knew it. Horatio was gentleman through and through, and Marisol relished this. And she loved getting to see the man beneath the reserve. He loved humor, and she found she really enjoyed finding ways to make him chuckle or laugh. One of the things she didn't understand was his physical restraint. She knew she wanted to be with him, and she felt that he wanted to be with her, but he would never cross that line.

When he arrived at the spa and Frank told him that Marisol had witnessed the shooting he managed to stay calm on the outside. Inside he was gripped with a cold fear. It eased when he saw her sitting up on the gurney, but was quickly replaced with a cold rage. He knew he would have to work to keep a level head as he progressed through the case. Then it became a race to protect the other women from the spa as well as Marisol. He felt a little relief when she agreed to wait at his place. He wanted to be with her, he was sure she was more traumatized than she was willing to let on.

He wasn't entirely surprised when she showed up at the office. At first, he was a bit floored by her comment about a baby, but he said the only thing that came to his mind. She spun around, shocked by both her blurting out such a personal comment, and by his response. Hope soared in her heart. She wanted desperately to kiss him, but restrained herself. They stood together, staring out at the Miami skyline.

And now it seemed as if they were racing toward momentous events. The trial loomed. Marisol decided to accept only one more round of chemotherapy. Horatio dazedly agreed with her, but found himself now whispering prayers in the dark.

That night, after he brought her home from her chemo, she was suddenly, acutely ill. She tried to get him to leave, but he wouldn't go until she knew she was going to be ok. She fled to the bathroom, and he could hear violent retching. He wanted to go into her, but didn't want to invade her privacy. He went to the kitchen, and got some crushed ice from the fridge. Then he found her linen closet and got a washcloth. He approached the bathroom door, and was going to knock, when she opened the door herself.

"Oh, Horatio," she cried. "You can go, you don't want to see me like this."

He steered her toward her room, and helped her sit on the bed. He handed her the cup of ice chips and went back to the bathroom to wet the cloth. When he got back to her she was still sitting on the edge of the bed, head hanging down. He sat next to her, and stroked the inside of her wrists with the damp cloth. Then he lifted her hair away from her neck and cooled it as well.

Marisol gave a little hiccup, and Horatio realized she was crying. He cleared her hair away from her face and asked, "Hey, what's this, sweetheart?"

Her face, usually so perfect, was blotchy, eyes red-rimmed, and tears making little colored tracks of eye makeup run down her face. Without thinking about it he took her chin in his hand and wiped her face gently with the damp cloth.

"I told you I was high maintenance," she sobbed. "You don't have to stay, I'll manage till Eric gets here."

"Tell you what, I'm going to step out of the room, and you're going to put on something comfortable. I am not leaving until Eric gets here, so just put that thought out of your head," replied Horatio. He took the cup of ice chips and put them on the nightstand. "Go on, now, get cleaned up, and get into bed. I'll be back in a few minutes."

When he tapped on the door and went into the room ten minutes later she was sitting up, propped by pillows. She had clipped her hair back and her face was scrubbed clean, and now she was horribly pale. Horatio had found a sturdy pot in the kitchen and handed it to her. He apparently was just in time, as she immediately leaned forward and vomited into the pot. There wasn't much left in her, and she retched miserably, while he gently stroked her back.

"Is it always this bad?" he asked compassionately, when it seemed that the worst was over.

"Usually, this is the worst of it," she replied. "By tomorrow, with a little help, I'll be able to cope." She and Eric had decided that Horatio would never be present when she "medicated".

Horatio took the barf pot away, rinsed it, and brought it back. She was looking a little less peaked, and very sleepy. He sat on the other side of the bed, toed off his shoes, scooted next to her and pulled her against his chest. He gently let her hair down and stroked it.

She sighed and then she giggled. He took this as a good sign.

"Horatio, you do realize, we're in bed together," she smiled at him.

"Only until you fall asleep, or until Eric gets here," he replied firmly.

"Um, hmm," she murmured, sleepily. She snuggled into him and began to play with his shirt buttons, but she really was almost asleep.

When she was still he disentangled himself, and went to the living room. He started to scan her bookshelves. He heard someone at the door and had started to step that way when Eric let himself in.

Eric was startled to see him there, but relaxed in an instant. "Hey, H, how is she?" he asked.

"Is she always that sick after?" asked Horatio worriedly. "She was very sick, about an hour ago, but she's sleeping now."

"Yeah, about 5 hours after chemo she is usually really sick. It's great that she's asleep, that should carry through for another hour or so. She'll be up and down all night," he answered.

"Eric! Have you been coping with that for the past 10 months?" interjected Horatio. "You should have told me. I could have helped you."

"H, she's my sister, I didn't want to bring my home issues to work, especially after we found the marijuana was the only thing that helped," answered Eric.

Horatio's lips pressed together, which Eric took as a sign that H was controlling anger. Horatio was angry, but at himself, for not seeing Eric's struggle. "I'm sorry, Eric," said Horatio, regret coloring his voice.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," said Eric. "Why don't you go home, get some rest. Come back tomorrow around lunch time. She should be a bit better by then, and it would cheer her up."

"Are you sure?" Horatio asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, but H, you're gonna need your shoes," said Eric, gesturing at his feet.

"I left them in Marisol's room," said Horatio, turning back to her bedroom. He went down the hall in his stockinged feet. Eric was nonplussed, what had H been doing in there?

Horatio went into the room as quietly as he could and went around the far side of the bed. He slipped his feet back into his shoes just as Marisol murmured, "Horatio?"

"I'm sorry sweetheart, I just came in to get my shoes, I didn't mean to wake you," apologized Horatio.

Marisol sat up, "Are you leaving? Is Eric here?" she asked.

"Yes, and yes," he replied. He went around the bed, to give her a quick kiss, but she grabbed the pot and started to retch. He sat down next to her, and held her hair back, murmuring, "I'm here, sweetheart, it's going to be better soon, I promise." He felt helpless. He could scarcely believe she and Eric had coped with this on their own for the last 10 months. He offered her the cup of partially melted ice chips. She cleaned her mouth and spit into the pot.

"You can go Horatio, you don't have to stay and see me like this," she whispered.

"Marisol, I'm not here because I have to be, but because I want to be, because I love you," he blurted out, as he held her. He was shocked at himself. He realized the instant he said it, that it was true.

As far as romantic declarations of love went this was pretty far down the ladder, but Marisol knew that she had never heard one more sincere. If he could tell her he loved her while she was practically barfing in his lap, he must mean it. She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around him, praying that she could hold off barfing for a while. "I love you, Horatio," she replied. "I have for a while now."

On the far side of the door Eric stood as still as stone. He felt like he was intruding on a very private moment. He had been coming in to tease H about hanging out in his sister's bedroom, but he wasn't prepared to deal with this. He backed away silently, and took up a seat in the living room, not reading a paperback in his lap.

"We're going to be ok, Marisol," Horatio assured her. "I'll be back tomorrow." He gently kissed her temple, and retreated from the room. He stood outside the door a moment and tried to compose himself. He turned toward the living room, and recalled that Eric was out there.

"I see you overheard that," he said cautiously. "That or you have developed a talent for reading books upside down." He gestured to the book in Eric's lap.

"Yeah, H, sorry about that," Eric replied, with only a slight edge to his voice. "Aren't you guys moving a little fast? She should be focusing on getting better."

"Eric, fast is all we've got. If the chemo doesn't help her, how long will she last? Let me make her happy, for the time that's left," Horatio begged. His eyes were bright. He hung his head, hating himself for what he perceived as weakness.

"Man, you have got it bad, haven't you," stated Eric. He stood, and went over to Horatio. He felt awkward, this was Horatio after all. But he gave him a man-hug, shoulder to shoulder. "Yeah, I know you make her really happy, I don't get why, but you do."

"She brings out the best in me," replied Horatio, with that quick, small grin.

"So, get going, you can come back tomorrow. She should be feeling better by noon," hinted Eric. '

Horatio went home, but he scarcely slept. He pondered how he had come to such a pass. He was in love with Marisol, Eric's sister. She might be dying of leukemia, while he had a death mark from the Mala Noches. He resolved to squeeze all the happiness he could, out of a seemingly hopeless situation. And again, he found himself whispering half-forgotten prayers in the dark.

The next day at noon he was at her door. He and Eric had agreed that if there wasn't a body drop they would switch off. He knocked, but it was a while before Eric answered.

"Hey, H, thanks for coming," said Eric. He looked tired.

"Rough night?" asked Horatio sympathetically. "Where's Mari?"

"No rougher than usual," replied Eric. "She's in the shower. I've got to get going, I want to put in at least a half day. Oh, and by the way, she should be coming down, soon. She ate a little this morning, too."

"Will the nausea come back?" asked Horatio.

"Yeah, but it won't be nearly as bad as last night," he answered. "She should be able to hold down small amounts of plain, simple food as the day goes on."

Eric grabbed his things and hurried off to work. Horatio set to work to make some simple tea, and he brought out a cinnamon muffin from a bakery he knew she liked. He cut it into quarters and set in on a plate.

A few minutes later Marisol came out of her room, dressed in a thin pair of sleep pants and a tank top. When she saw Horatio, she rushed forward and threw her arms around him.

"Horatio!" she cried out happily. She kissed him enthusiastically. Horatio kissed back, but her demeaner was not normal, so he pulled back and looked into eyes. Ahh, yes, she was still a little high from her morning "medication". He was glad that she seemed well and happy, but he knew he would have to be the responsible one for the next little while.

She pouted prettily when he ended the kiss, and looked up at him through her eyelashes. He grinned at her, he knew that she knew he found her eyes delightful.

"Come on, sweetheart," he said lightly. "I brought you a little snack." He put her arm through his and escorted her to the kitchen table. He pulled out a chair for her and placed the muffin in front of her.

"Oh, yummy," she said gleefully. "I'm really hungry!" She hungrily started in on the muffin and tea.

"Slow down, Marisol, I don't want you making yourself sick," admonished Horatio. He pulled the plate away from her. Again, she pouted at him. He broke the quarters into pieces, and began hand feeding her bites of muffin, slowly. At first she was only interested in the food, but her eyes went a little wicked and with the next bite of muffin she gently caught Horatio's forefinger in her teeth. She delicately licked the tip of his finger with her tongue. Horatio's eyes went wide, and he quickly pulled his hand back. This was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated.

She got up out of her chair and sighed happily as she settled in Horatio's lap.

"Horatio, I seem to recall you told me something startling last night," she began.

"Uh huh," he replied. Ah, he thought, maybe he could distract her with this.

"Say it again," she asked. "So I know I wasn't dreaming."

"Say what again," he replied. She pouted and laid her head on his shoulders and began to nuzzle under his ear.

"I love you, Horatio," she whispered into his ear.

She was truly killing him. She was dissolving his restraint at an unbelievable pace. "And I love you," he replied. He kissed her, but drew back quickly.

"Don't you want me, Horatio," she asked petulantly. "I know I want you."

"Marisol, of course I want you," exclaimed Horatio. He realized he was going to have to explain himself. "Sweetheart, drink your tea, and I'll explain."

"Marisol, I spend every day tracking down people who have decided that for one reason or another, what they want is the most important thing in the world. They lie, cheat, steal, and murder, and feel perfectly justified in doing so, because they wanted something they couldn't or shouldn't have," said Horatio. "Their motivations are always selfishness and pride. Even crimes of passion are basically founded in selfishness." He took a breath. Marisol knew this must be very important to him, as he rarely made such long speeches.

"My work, what I do," he continued, "isn't just about catching the guilty, but about getting justice for the victims and their families, and protecting the innocent. And I promised myself, long ago, that I would never be on the other side of that situation again. Many things are "legal" that still cause irreparable harm to relationships and families. And you know what, people always know when they have crossed that line. They feel guilty, they try to hide their betrayals, their lack of fidelity, their thievery. So, I live to a code, and I try, hard, to stick to it. I won't violate your faith in me, or Eric's trust." He stood and turned back toward her.

He pulled her up, and stepped into her closely. "When we do make love, it will because it is right for both of us," he whispered into her ear. "It won't be because I can't wait, or I'm staking some kind of claim; or because you're high, or think you have to. It will be because we love each other and are committed to each other."

She shivered at the word "When". She was suddenly completely sober. What had she done, she wondered, to deserve such a man? She felt like a princess being courted by a knight. She sighed. "I'm sorry, Horatio."

"There is nothing you need to be sorry for," he told her. He pulled her still closer, so that they were touching from shoulder to hip. "I just need you to be patient."

He leaned his head on her shoulder and relished holding her for a moment. She hugged him, and stroked his hair. "I can wait, Horatio."

"Alright, back to your meal," he suggested. "Then let's watch a movie, until I'm sure your back to normal." They spent a pleasant afternoon. Her nausea waxed and waned as the afternoon passed. Eric came by again in the early evening. Marisol began to look a bit peaked, so Eric gently suggested that it was time for H to go.

Horatio realized he wanted to marry her, but didn't know if it was fair to ask, so soon. If she went into remission she might want to slow down, and fully consider her options. So, the next week, when she brought up marriage first, he jumped to agree. She caught the little flash of triumph and joy as she took his arm. She shook it a bit. "Did you want to ask me?" she asked.

"I didn't want to rush you, but yes, I wanted to ask," he admitted. "Marisol, would you marry me?"

"Yes, Horatio," she happily replied.

Together they filed for a license, then realized that it had to be witnessed soon. And they had to speak with Eric. And while Horatio did that Marisol's doctor called, and told her that her scans and blood work indicated she was in full remission. She could scarcely believe it. She and Horatio could actually start thinking about a future. When she told Horatio he was overjoyed, and said a prayer of thanksgiving on the spot. Then he hesitated.

"Do you want to wait, for a proper wedding?" he offered tentatively.

"No, your life is still in danger, and this is just remission, not a cure," she said definitively. "Let's move on as if nothing has changed."

The next day Eric had the surreal experience of watching Horatio, arguably the most reserved person in Miami, kiss Marisol as his new wife. They thanked him for coming, and then they left the court building together. He knew where they were going, but tried hard not to think about their honeymoon activities.

Marisol found that was all she could think about, as she sat at a dinner table in the hotel restaurant. Horatio realized later he had no memory of the food they had eaten. They gave up any thought of dessert as a bad job and retired to their luxurious room. The world fell away, as Marisol discovered that Horatio loved with his whole being, and Horatio discovered that Marisol could make him forget everything else.


	2. Chapter 2

Events from 4x24 Rampage From the first shot this is AU. Some events from Rio (5x01)remain the same, some are very different.

* * *

The next day Eric was kept busy tracking down Gloria, and tried to convince her, again, to leave him alone. When Marisol called him, and told him about her car and purse he was furious. He had calmed down a bit by the time he was able to return the purse to Marisol. But he was alarmed that she had slipped from her bodyguard. His head snapped up, and he began scanning the area. He saw the patrol officer rapidly approaching, so he glanced up. At the first glint of light he didn't hesitate, he pushed Marisol to the ground, and shouted, "Down, Marisol, stay down!" just as the first shot rang out. Time slowed to a crawl, as he tried to assess the threat. He felt a burning track across his upper arm.

At that moment, the policeman assigned to Marisol leaped in front of them, and took a round to the gut. Eric was already on the phone. "Shots fired, shots fired," he yelled into the phone, giving the dispatcher his location, and requesting aid. He checked on Marisol, who was frighteningly still beneath him.  
"Mari, don't move, just nod a little if you can hear me," he fearfully asked.

She gave a short jerk of her head.

"Are you ok? Are you hurt?" he asked.

"I think I bumped my head on the way down, but I'm ok other than that," she dazedly answered. She turned her head fractionally to look at him, "Eric!" she exclaimed. "Your bleeding!"

"It's just a scratch, don't worry," he soothed. "Stay down, while I check on the officer."

The patrolman had taken a bad shot to the abdomen, which wasn't bleeding much. Eric knew that wasn't necessarily good. It usually meant the victim was bleeding internally. Eric glanced at his name tag, "McCue. " The officer's mouth worked, he gasped, "I'm sorry, she gave me the slip. Oh Jesus, this hurts! Is she alright?"

"Man, McCue, you're a hero, you saved her and me both. Hang on, the medics are on the way," replied Eric.

The patrol cars were already screaming onto the scene. Eric explained what had happened, and then the ambulance arrived. He hustled Marisol into the back, he didn't want her out in the open.

Then Horatio came charging into the scene. His eyes were a bit wild, but he kept a tight control over his voice. "Eric! What happened, where's Mari?"

"She's ok, H, not hurt much at all. I put her in the bus, to keep her safe," Eric replied. Horatio relaxed fractionally. In some part of his brain, Eric realized he could read Horatio better than he thought.

"H, this guy, McCue, he just leaped in front of us, he took a bullet meant for Marisol, you gotta take care of him," exclaimed Eric.

"I will, Eric. Get that arm looked at, I'll see you at the hospital," Horatio replied. He ran to the gurney with the injured man on it. "Come on, let's get him loaded, let's go!" Horatio insisted.

"Horatio," Marisol called out.

"Marisol, come with me, they need more room in the ambulance," said Horatio. "Are you ok?" She looked ok, mostly frightened, and a little dazed. He helped her down and shut the ambulance doors. "Go, go" he shouted.

As the ambulance tore away, Horatio hustled Marisol into his Hummer.

She began to weep and gasp a bit, obviously distressed. "Eric, Eric," she moaned. "He was bleeding, too".

"I saw the wound, Marisol, it was a shallow scratch. We'll go to the hospital and check on him right now. I want a doctor to look at your head, too," soothed Horatio.

He was about to change lanes when he saw a black vehicle swing up beside him and speed in front. He pushed Marisol down with his right hand, "Get down, down, Marisol, they're coming again!" Marisol slid into the well at her feet and huddled there. The sedan was no match for the Hummer, and Horatio broadsided it. That kept two men trapped inside.

"Stay down, Marisol," commanded Horatio. Her only response was to draw herself into a tighter ball.

Horatio leaped out of the car and took a shooting stance. As the two men on the far side of the vehicle tumbled out he watched carefully. He would take no chance with Marisol's safety. Unsurprisingly they both tried to aim weapons at him, but he shot them both before they could fully aim. He edged around the vehicle, and could see that both of the passengers were unconscious. A patrol car pulled up, having just left the scene of the first shooting. Quickly, Horatio explained what was going on, and that he had to get to the hospital, to check on the downed man and Eric.

He went back to the Hummer, and gently coaxed Marisol back into a sitting position. He wrapped his arms around her, and said, "Sweetheart, we have to get you to a safe place. Can you hang on just a little longer?"

She nodded into his shoulder, but her whole body was shaking like a leaf in the wind. He realized she was going into shock. He buckled her in, then himself. Putting on his lights and siren, he sped to the hospital. As he drove he called ahead to the hospital, and then to Alexx. He was going to need a little help with what he had planned.

"Horatio, what is going on?" asked Alexx. "I heard that Eric's been shot."

"He's gonna be ok, Alexx," began Horatio. "But I need help at the hospital. No questions, Alexx, just bring me what I need."

She heard the urgency in his voice, and replied. "Alright, honey, what do you need?"

He gave her an odd list of items, but if she found it inexplicable she gave no sign.

"I'll get right on that, Horatio. It will take a little time, but I should be at the hospital within a couple of hours," she said.

They made it to the hospital, and Horatio dropped Marisol at the door. He pulled ahead a little, and left the Hummer out of the way. He didn't take the time to park it, trusting the police decals to keep it out of trouble. He bolted inside. His badge got them into Eric quickly. An emergency room doctor was stitching up his arm. Eric took one look at Marisol and paled. This caused the doctor to look up. He took one look at Marisol, who was pale and shaking, and took command of the situation. He finished clipping the stitch in Eric's arm and gestured for him to hop off the gurney.

Marisol saw Eric and let out a little moan of relief. She sagged against Horatio, who swept her up into his arms. The doctor tore a fresh sheet onto the gurney and Horatio gently laid her down.

"What happened," tersely asked the doctor.

"She was at the shooting, where Eric here was wounded," quickly answered Horatio. "She may have a head injury. Then we were attacked on the way here, and she got thrown around the front of the car a little."

"What?" exclaimed Eric.

"It's done Eric, two of the men in the car are dead, two are probably on their way here," answered Horatio.

At the mention of the deaths Marisol sobbed anew, and the men turned their attention back to the doctor, who was examining her.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry," soothed Horatio. Eric, who was accustomed to watching Horatio calm and soothe victims admired his ability to seem so calm. The doctor, no stranger to sudden, violent death, knew here was a man not to be trifled with.

"Ok," said the doctor. "Are either of you relatives?"

Immediately came a chorus of, "I'm her husband" and "I'm her brother."

Bemused, the doctor said, "Alright, then, you can BOTH stay." Pointing at Eric he said, "You, sit there," and gestured at a chair. To Horatio he said, "Go on the other side of the bed, hold her hand, while I finish checking her over."

He quickly and efficiently examined her. He found some small bruises and contusions, but nothing serious. He turned the lights down a little, and told the men that it seemed to be simple emotional shock. He suggested they just give her a little time to recuperate, and not to talk about anything urgent, on in loud tones, for at least 15 minutes. He would be back to reassess her then. He gave Horatio a cup of water, and suggested that Marisol would probably very thirsty, soon. He left the room.

Horatio's heart was breaking for her. One of the things that he loved about Marisol was her lack of connection to the world of crime, violence, and death. He knew that this sudden baptism by fire would change her. It had been one of his reasons for his initial hesitancy in dating her at all. He bent over her, stroking her hair and murmuring reassurance to her. He would give her this time, but he knew that he and Eric had to be away soon, to hunt the men who had ordered this.

Marisol was gradually coming to grips with all that had happened. Eric was all right. Horatio was unharmed, physically at least. Horatio's words of caution came back to her now. She knew, if she ever wanted a life with him, he would have to end this reign of terror. Her heart ached for him, and for the fact that the rest of their honeymoon would have to wait. He would have much to do.

Eric's passionate nature made him impatient. He was ashamed, but he wanted to be away, and destroy those who had attacked them. His hands clenched and unclenched, imagining scenarios of death.

Horatio saw this, and quietly said, "Soon, Eric, soon, I promise."

Marisol's breathing settled, and Horatio was unsurprised to see her drifting off to sleep. Shock was exhausting. He gestured to Eric, who stood and came over to the bed.

"Stay by her, I'll go check on the patrolman," he instructed.

Eric slid in next to him, and they changed places, Eric taking Marisol's hand.

Horatio stepped out of the suite, and inquired of one of the nurses. McCue's outlook was grave, and he was still in surgery.

The doctor came around the corner, and asked after Marisol. Horatio told him she was sleeping at the moment. The doctor checked the admitting board, hung over the nurse's station. Most of the room slots were blessedly empty.

"Let her sleep a little, then. It's quiet right now," he said. "But if we get a sudden influx of patients, you may have to take her home."

"Thank you, Doctor," said Horatio. "In an hour or so, if we are still here, 2 or 3 others will join us. We need to make some plans for Marisol's safety. Please send Dr. Woods and her companions back when they arrive."

Horatio stepped back into the room. Marisol was still dozing, so he quietly outlined his plan for her to Eric. Eric was saddened by the necessity, but admitted that it was a sound way of protecting her while they did what they had to do.

After another forty-five minutes, the doctor reappeared. He gently tapped on Marisol's hand and called out, "Mrs. Caine, Mrs. Caine." With a start, the other two men realized this was the first time they had heard her so addressed.

Marisol stirred, and called out, "Horatio!"

"I'm here, sweetheart, I'm here," he assured her.

The doctor raised the head of the bed, and they were all relieved to see Marisol look alertly around. She held out the hand not clasped in Horatio's to Eric, who stepped up and took it.

"How do you feel," asked the doctor.

"Tired, but much calmer, thank you," answered Marisol.

"Ok, Dr. Woods is here, and after she is done, you'll be released," replied the doctor. To Horatio he said, "Take care of her."

"Always," replied Horatio.

Alexx came in with a woman neither Eric or Marisol knew, although Eric recognized her face as a patrol officer he sometimes saw at headquarters. She was tall, nearly five ten, with short, dark hair. She was wearing jeans and deeply hooded jacket, that covered her hair and face.

Alexx exclaimed, "Horatio, what happened? Why did those men attack Marisol and Eric?"

"Because, Alexx," began Horatio. "They know the surest way to destroy me is to take from me those I love the most."

Silence greeted this bald statement. Then Marisol turned her head into Horatio's jacket and sniffed. Eric reached across the bed and gripped Horatio's shoulder.

Horatio broke this silence, "Officer Chavez, thank you for coming. I have a lot to ask of you, and I want you to feel free to refuse. It isn't without risk."

The woman responded, "Lieutenant Caine, whatever you need," stoutly responded the young woman.

Horatio looked down at Marisol, and spoke, "Sweetheart, look at me." Marisol sat back up, and decided to stop being a victim, and become a participant in Horatio's plan. His eyes crinkled in approval.

"Marisol, Eric and I have things to do, and I need to be undistracted. If you're here in Miami, my attention will be divided, between catching these men, and protecting you. I want you to go with Alexx, she is going to take you to the airport, and you're getting on a plane for New York. Friends of mine will meet you there. When I can come for you, I will."

Both Eric and Marisol hated this idea, but both saw its necessity. But Marisol wouldn't give in that easily.

"Horatio, no, if I run away, haven't they won?" she insisted. "I want to stay near you. I'm not afraid!"

"Marisol, sweetheart, do you remember when you wanted to stop your chemo, and I told you, if we lose you, then nothing could happen?" explained Horatio. "What I really meant was if I lose you I don't know if I'll be able to go on. I told Eric, that I could deal with it, but not now, that I care for you so much. I need to know you're safe, in order to do my job. Please, do this for me?"

Marisol hated it, and wanted to argue, but she could see his fear. She nodded, reluctantly.

"Officer Chavez is going to give you her hoodie, and Alexx brought a pair of jeans for you," continued Horatio. You're going to go out the front door with Alexx, and I am going out the Emergency room door with Chavez here." He turned to Chavez and asked, "Ma'am, what is your given name?"

"Christina, sir" she replied.

"But Horatio, her hair?" asked Marisol. She could understand how she could flatten her hair and hide it under the hoodie, but the officer had short hair, almost shingled to her head.

"Alexx?" asked Horatio.

Alexx reached into the bag she had brought with her and pulled out a full wig, styled very like Marisol's hair. Chavez grinned, and started taking off her hoodie, which she handed to Marisol. Horatio took off his ubiquitous jacket, and dropped it over the officer's shoulder.

Alexx went to work on Christina's hair, and soon she stood before them in Marisol's hairdo, and Horatio's jacket. Horatio reminded her she was to act as if she was coming out of shock, and to hang her head a bit. He stepped to her side, and offered her his arm. Feigning a slight case of the shakes she took it. She leaned into Horatio a bit, and the illusion was complete.

Marisol felt a stab of jealousy at seeing another woman on Horatio's arm but immediately dismissed it. Horatio looked up at her and his eyes gave a that little crinkle that was his public smile. He was better at reading her than she him, she knew. She gave a little huff, but smiled back.

"Horatio, we can't put her on a plane under her own name. The Mala Noche would be on her in an instant," said Eric.

"I don't want you to worry about that, Eric," replied Horatio. Eric knew this was H's code for "You're better off not knowing what I'm going to do next." But he relaxed, knowing that H would take care of everything, and probably within the confines of the law. "He is right, Marisol, you'll need an alias," thought Horatio out loud. "How about Maria de Boanoite?" He couldn't resist the little mockery of the Mala Noche. It was different enough, being Portuguese, not Spanish.

Marisol tried it out a time or two, to see if she could become accustomed to using it. She nodded at Horatio.

"Alexx, do you have the recorder?" he asked.

"Here, Horatio," she said, handing the small device out to him.

"Sweetheart, I need you to give a statement, everything you can remember from the moment just before the first shot, until the moment you got here," instructed Horatio. "Eric, help with that. Then we're going to get moving." He knew time was against them. He stepped out into the hall to make some calls.

He called an air marshal who owed him a favor and asked him to arrange safe passage for a witness to New York. He only gave Alexx's name as contact, saying that the witness needed anonymity. The marshal agreed to help him, and said he would text Horatio the flight number and departure information. He returned to the room just as Marisol was finishing her statement.

"Alexx, here is my debit card. Stop at a bank, withdraw whatever you can," instructed Horatio. He took Marisol's hand, and wrote the PIN on it. "Mari, you'll need some spending money, you can't go back to your place for anything. And bury you ID and credit cards deep in your purse. You mustn't use them."

"Alexx, Christina, could you wait outside a moment," Horatio asked. They excused themselves.

"Eric, you'll want to say goodbye to Marisol," instructed Horatio. "Mari, I don't know how long this is going to take, but I want you to allow three weeks at least. I'm sending you to a friend, a man I've entrusted my life and soul to in the past. Do whatever he asks you."

"H, swear to me she'll be safe," insisted Eric. He gave Marisol a fierce hug. She hugged him back and answered for Horatio.

"Eric, I'm sure it'll be fine. Horatio wouldn't do this if it wasn't necessary, and certainly not if it wasn't safe for me. You go get these men, so I can come back!"

Horatio was grateful that he wouldn't have to persuade her to go. "Eric, could I have a moment with my wife, please," he asked. Eric gave Marisol a kiss on her forehead and with a last look went out of the room.

Horatio went to Marisol and pulled her off the gurney. He wrapped her in his arms and stood there a moment, cherishing her. He gave her a passionate kiss, which she returned. She broke from the kiss and leaned back a little, looking up into his now troubled face. She stroked the side of his face and straightened his hair a bit. She knew she was the only one he was so open with, and was resolved to be strong and positive for him.

"I'll be fine, Horatio," she asserted. You take care of my brother, help him keep his anger in check. Don't let him do anything foolish. When you're done, come and get me."

"I'm sorry, Marisol, it isn't much of a honeymoon, is it?" he asked, sadly. "We'll be back, I swear it." Then we'll get that dinner at Casa Tua, and that weekend in the country."

He reached into the bag Alexx had brought. "I know it's a burden, but you can't use your cell phone. Here are two "burner phones" that you and I can use to keep in touch. Please, sweetheart, don't call your friends yet. OK?" He handed her a small phone. Then he put Christina's hoodie on her, and pulled the hood over her head and face. They went out the door.

Horatio told Alexx where to take her, and Marisol and Alexx went down a hall, and turned away from Emergency room entrance. Horatio watched them go, but didn't betray an ounce of his feelings.

He held out his arm for Christina, and instantly falling into the role of frightened civilian she leaned on his arm, and let the hair of the wig obscure her face. Eric tagged behind. They went out to the Hummer, and drove straight to the lab building. Christina went into a closet in the back of the building, and doffed the jacket and the wig. She came out and handed them to Horatio.

"Christina, thank you," said Horatio sincerely. "You have helped me tremendously, and I won't forget it."

"Happy to help, Lieutenant," she replied somberly. "It's been a hell of a day, sir. Officer McCue is a friend of mine. If you don't mind, I'm going to check on him."

"You let me know if he needs anything," Horatio insisted.

"Yes, sir," she replied, and strode away.

Horatio used his new phone to call his New York connection, Cardinal Benedetti. "Your eminence," he said. "Horatio Caine here."

"Horatio," replied the priest. "How are you? How are things in Miami?"

"Chaotic, Father," said Horatio. "I find myself in need of a personal favor. I am sending a young woman to you. She is in urgent need of protection. I need to know that she is safe. No one can know, Father."

"I'll need to know a little, Horatio," replied the priest. "Who is she to you?"

"Well, Father, as of about 24 hours ago, she is my wife," answered Horatio. "My enemies are circling and have just made an attempt on her life. She is unharmed, but I need to know she's safe."

"Horatio, this is dangerous territory for you. I'll watch out for her, I can keep her safe. But remember where the anger and rage of revenge have led you before. Take care, don't cross over to that dark place again," instructed the priest.

"I'll do all I can, Father, but I can promise you, if these men can kill me, they will, and I will fight against them, with every weapon I have at my disposal," hotly answered Horatio.

"You're a soldier at heart, Horatio," replied the priest. "You've taken up arms in the battle against those who prey on the innocent. Keep to this side of the law. Now, where and when will your young wife arrive? What is her name?"  
Horatio gave him the information he would need, and promised to get in touch as soon as he could.

As he hung up from that call he saw Stetler approaching. Internally he raged, he just didn't have time for this.

"Lieutenant Caine, what is going on?" asked Stetler.

Horatio fished in his pocket and pulled out the recorder. He stepped into Stetler, and in a low, threatening tone explained what had happened. "My wife recorded what happened, and now she is safely away," he finished. "If you have further questions, I suggest you ask CSI Delko, as he was a witness too."

"I'll be wanting to interview your wife, too," sneered Stetler.

Horatio didn't quite snap, "It will be a cold day in hell before you get anywhere near her. Do you understand me, Rick? Walk away, now!"

Stetler apparently saw something in Horatio's eyes he didn't like. He realized that the man was dangerously close to losing his cool, and Rick knew he didn't want to be on the receiving end of Horatio's murderous rage. He decided to retire from the field.

Horatio and Eric then began their pursuit of whoever had shot at Marisol. Eric went to the hotel of the shooting, and discovered that Gloria had been there. As he pursued that lead, Horatio called the hospital and enquired about the two unconscious men in the attack car. Both had mild concussions, and were under the watchful eyes of Miami's finest. He asked to be informed as soon as they were lucid.

Horatio took a moment to read Eric's witness statement and listen to Marisol's taped one. His heart froze a moment, when he heard how close he had come to losing them both. Only Eric's quick action had saved them. He sought out Eric.

Eric was in a lab, fingerprinting Gloria's weapon. Horatio stood in the door a moment and watched him work. He knew he was lucky to have such skilled CSI's working for him, but Eric was also family, and had been since before Marisol.

"H, I'm kinda busy, are you gonna stand there, or have you got something to say?" murmured Eric, without stopping his careful dusting of the rifle.

"Eric, thank you, the words aren't adequate, but right now, that's all I've got," hoarsely said Horatio.

Eric set down his brush, and turned. Horatio wasn't given to overt public displays, but he stepped forward and took Eric's forearm in his strong grip. Eric returned the clasp. "What, H?" asked Eric, although he thought he knew.

"If you hadn't immediately sensed the threat, from that single glint of light, you and Marisol might both be dead by now," said Horatio. "Part of me would have died, too."

"McCue is the real hero, H," replied Eric, self-consciously. He didn't think he could have lived with himself, either, if he had been too slow to save Marisol. The guilt would have destroyed him, and his relationship with Horatio.

Then came the news that McCue was conscious, but not expected to survive. Horatio hurried to the hospital. He grabbed a chair as he strode into the room. He sat next to the bed.

He took McCue's hand, and the man opened his eyes. Confusion shone in them a moment, then he realized it was Lieutenant Caine by his side.

"LT, I tried, is your wife ok?" he gasped.

"You did it, McCue, she's safe," said Horatio. "I could never thank you enough, you protected her with all you had. I don't think I would have survived it if she had died."

"That's what we're here for LT, right?" whispered McCue. "To protect and serve…" His eyes fell shut, and his hand went limp.

Horatio sat there just a moment. He said a prayer of thanksgiving for Officer McCue's bravery and for the repose of his soul. Then he stood and called Eric.

"McCue just passed away," he said. "Get down here, we have two of the attack car passengers to interview."

Eric interviewed the man from the back of the attack car, and Horatio, the man from the front seat. They both leaned pretty hard on the suspects, and both men gave up Antonia Riaz as the man who ordered the shooting. It turned out the shooter, Memmo Fiero, had been the driver, and that Horatio had already killed him.

They began to work the case. It was a dizzying trail of Japanese restaurants, Arab arms merchants, and Russian guns. Intermixed with this was the added burden of the FBI roaming around the lab, and the revelation that Natalia was the FBI mole.

Eric and Horatio managed to catch up with Riaz and stop him from blowing up a plane. Then Horatio was standing over him, gun in his hand. His instinct was to shoot the cop killer, the man who had ordered a hit on his wife, and now threatened him. But the priest's admonition came back to him. He shot the ground in frustration, and let Eric vent his rage.

Then, just when he thought things might be settling down, and he thought of going to get Marisol, Agent Park showed up at the cemetery after McCue's funeral. When Horatio realized that Riaz was going to go free in Brazil he knew he was on the cusp of losing everything. Marisol would never be safe, nor would anyone near him.

"H, what are we going to do? He can still order a hit, even from Brazil," fretted Eric. "The Brazilian police won't hold him long."

"Eric, were going to Brazil," said Horatio. "I don't know how this will play out, but I want you with me." It didn't occur to him to suggest Eric stay behind, something Eric would find insulting. It felt good to know he would have Horatio's back.


	3. Chapter 3

A few things bothered me about Rio (5x01). The implication is that Eric and Horatio had been there for 6 weeks, and in all that time Horatio had not been to see Ray and Yelena. So I changed that. I am not recounting the episode, just adjusting it to fit my story. I gave Eric a bit more of a role, too. And the end of this story is the purest of fluffity fluff fluff. You have been warned.

* * *

The first thing Horatio did in Brazil was to find Raymond and Yelena. Raymond was once again teetering on the edge of drug addiction. Horatio urged him to step away from that world, but he didn't feel like he had made much of an impression on him. Yelena promised to keep trying, but she also felt that Ray had slipped beyond their help.

Ray stormed out, and that left Horatio with Yelena. Horatio sighed a little, barely noticeable sigh, but Yelena saw it.

"What is it, Horatio?" she asked. "You obviously have more to say."

"Yelana, I married a girl last week," he replied. There, it was out.

Her glance flew to his hand, but there was no ring. But that made sense, as many law officers refrained from wearing a ring, lest it catch on something in a struggle. She was filled with conflicting emotions. She wanted to be happy for him, but she felt a twinge of loss. They had grown very close during the time between Ray's "death" and his reappearance.

"Who?" she asked.

"Marisol Delko," he replied. He pulled out his phone, and found the picture Eric had taken in the court building foyer. He handed it to her, and turned away, toward the window. He wasn't sure how she would react. He knew that there were unresolved feelings between them.

Behind him Yelena looked bemusedly at the photo. The woman was beautiful and there was a little spark in her eyes. And Horatio looked happy, relaxed almost.

"She is beautiful, Horatio," said Yelena. "How did Eric take all this?"

"He felt a little weird at first, but he accepts it now," answered Horatio. "We did move quickly, we only started dating in February. But she has leukemia, and with the Mala Noche greenlighting me, we thought we shouldn't wait. They tried to kill her last week. That's why I'm here."

"Wait, what?" she exclaimed.

Horatio explained it all to her. "Eric and I are here, hopefully to extradite Riaz, but I don't think that is really going to work. I suspect the end will be a bit more definitive than just taking him back to Miami."

"Are you happy, Horatio?" she asked.

"I haven't had time to sort it out," he answered. "We were married less than 24 hours when the Mala Noche tried to kill her. She's safe, for now. She makes me want to be a better man, and I know we could be happy. It will depend on if we can be left in peace. She is one of the few people I am truly myself with, and she just walked into my heart."

Yelena laid her hand on his arm and looked up into his troubled face. "I'm happy for you, Horatio. We'll work it out," she reassured him.

Eric applied to the Brazilian police for aid in finding Riaz, but their response was lukewarm. He left the paperwork with them and hit the streets with Horatio, trying to find out when he would be released, and where he was likely to hole up. This took more time than they wanted to allow, but they didn't speak Portuguese that well, and didn't know the territory. Yelena helped when she could. Ominously Raymond was hard to keep track of. Then they learned that Riaz was down the totem pole in the cartel hierarchy, and that Tiago Matos had come to Rio to restore order to his criminal cartel.

When Riaz was released Horatio was there, to give him warning. Riaz wasn't shaken, until Horatio disappeared from in front of him. He had never really considered him much of a threat, but now he was feeling a twinge of anxiety.

Riaz was tracking Horatio through the more corrupt element in the Rio police force. When he learned about Raymond Caine he saw a way of avenging himself. He had his men keep their eyes open for a new customer.

Raymond wanted to do something grand for Horatio. If he could catch Riaz maybe he could win his way back to the States, and Horatio's approval. But the siren call of the next high was impossible to resist. He decided to score one more time before he went deep into the favelas.

That one decision led to a whole host of subsequent events. The drug dealers kidnapped Raymond and delivered him to Riaz. Raymond found the strength to keep his wife and son's location a secret through the hours of torture that followed, not knowing that Ray Jr. was already trying to find him through Riaz. Riaz left Ray strung up in the hovel in the favela where Horatio and Eric found him.

Horatio was devastated, but at some level unsurprised. He had been down this road with Ray before. It felt like déjà vu, to stand by his brother's body. He felt as if he had failed Ray, Ray Jr. and Yelena.

"I love you," he bit out, as he turned away to search for Ray Jr. There followed the race to find Riaz. When Horatio told Yelena about Raymond she, too, was unsurprised. Her grief she hid from Horatio.

This was followed by the race to find, and then save Eric. Horatio fought and killed Riaz, for which he was both grateful and guilty. He was relieved that he wouldn't have to fear for Marisol and Eric, or anyone else close to him, from this source. He felt he should feel guilty over not detaining him, but since he was sure that Riaz had personally killed Raymond all he felt was a sense of relief.

Then Eric found a note in Riaz's pocket, indicating a hangar at one of Rio's private airfields. Figuring this must be where Ray Jr. had been taken, they raced to get there. They found Ray Jr and Matos in a stand-off, with airport technicians and personal cowering in the back of the hanger. Eric started to edge behind Matos, while Horatio attempted to talk Ray down. At the news of his father's death the gun in Ray's hand started to tremble. He began to lower his hand, as did Matos. But Matos was feigning, and quickly brought his hand up, just as Eric tackled him. The gun went off, and Horatio felt the bullet slice past his arm. Apparently, Matos had been indecisive about who to kill first, and had been aiming between Horatio and Ray.

Eric and Matos struggled on the ground, and the gun went off again. Horatio rushed toward them, fearful that Eric had been wounded, but it was Eric who rose from the ground, while Matos lay in the stillness of death on the ground. Eric kicked the gun away, and Horatio scooped it up.

"H, are you ok?" cried out Eric. Horatio's jacket was torn and blood was trickling down his arm.

"I'm fine, Eric," replied Horatio. He gently took Ray's gun and dropped it in a pocket. He wrapped the boy in a bear hug. At least they had been able to save Raymond's son. Eric approached the terrified people in the back of the hangar, and asked for help. He hoped, with these many witnesses, to avoid too much entanglement with Brazilian law. At least neither he nor Horatio had actually been in possession of a gun, which in Brazil would have been an issue. He hoped that they would be easy on Raymond, who was understandably distraught.

So it played out. The corrupt element in the Brazilian police force couldn't compete with so many witnesses to Matos's crimes of kidnapping, shooting an American, and threatening others. Raymond was released to his mother, and Horatio and Eric, after checking on her, headed back to Miami.

* * *

Eric and Horatio parted ways at the airport in Miami. Horatio was going straight to New York. They were both exhausted, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Eric was insistent that Horatio go get Marisol. Horatio, who never left a task unfinished, was hesitant to leave before the last threads of the various cases were sewn up.

"H, take a day, maybe a week," insisted Eric. "You haven't had a honeymoon, you deserve compassionate leave, and the feds will cover for you. We've pretty much eliminated the Mala Noche from Miami, and maybe further. I'll get Agent Park on our side, while you get Marisol. Think of it as a wedding gift."

"Thank you, Eric," said Horatio. "We're unlikely brothers, now, aren't we?"

Eric didn't tell H that he had long thought of him as a brother, he just shook his hand, and sent him on his way.

Horatio settled into the seat on the plane. He called the cardinal and told him he was on his way. He said he would rent a car and come to the Cathedral offices. For the duration of the flight, though, he didn't have to drive, he didn't have to think hard, and some of the events of the past month came crashing into his consciousness. Ray, long thought dead, had lived, and was now dead, again.

"I'm sorry, little brother," he whispered to himself. Yelena would be living in Miami, so he would get to have a hand in Ray, Jr's upbringing. He felt a passing twinge of regret for Yelena. But he was never one to dwell on those things that couldn't be changed.

His thoughts turned to his current destination. How had Marisol faired in New York? Benedetti had found an unlikely place to secret her away. She had been living in guest quarters attached to a convent. Would she be well rested, or driven stir crazy by all the inactivity and quiet? He drifted off to sleep as he pondered what inactivity might feel like.

He woke when the plane's wheels bumped onto the tarmac. He figured he had gotten a good 3 hours sleep. It was a start, anyway. He made his way off the plane with his carryon. It seemed like a dream, he was almost there. He called Marisol.

"Sweetheart, I'm in New York," he started.

"Horatio! The Cardinal told me you were on your way. Where are you now?" asked Marisol. "How is everything? How did you get away?"

"I'm in the car rental line, everything is fine, and it's because your brother is a saint," answered Horatio. "He insisted I come get you, he is cleaning up the mess and putting out the bureaucratic fires for us."

"Come and get me, Horatio. I'm at the Diocesan offices now," urged Marisol. "I'll meet you in the Church of St. John, around the corner."

"I'm on my way," replied Horatio.

It took an hour and a half to get the car, and wend his way downtown. Blessedly there was a parking garage nearby. He quickly walked over to the church, mounted the steps and entered the foyer. He stopped just inside the double doors of the church, and contemplated the crucifix. It was well done, for all the rest of the décor was surprisingly modern. He genuflected as he scanned the sanctuary for Marisol. She was seated near the back, so he strode up to the pew, gave a hasty bow and sat down next to her and took her hand.

Out of respect for where they were she just leaned into him a bit. "Thank God you're safe," she whispered.

"Indeed," was his brief reply. He bowed his head and thanked God for her safety, and begged for forgiveness for all he had done to obtain it. And again, he prayed for Ray, and for Yelena and Ray Jr. Then he gave her hand a tug, and they quietly walked outside.

Then Horatio Caine did something he had never done before. In broad daylight, in view of any passerby, he kissed his wife full on the mouth. Marisol could swear he was trembling slightly. She wrapped her arms around him. Time stood still.

A light cough brought Horatio out of the fog he was in. He leaned his forehead on Marisol's, then looked up. His old friend, the Cardinal, was on the top step of the church doorway, looking amused.

"Well, now I believe all the young lady has told me in the past month," he said, humor in his eyes.

"Please excuse, me, Eminence. In the thirty days I have been a married man I have spent less than 1 with my wife," replied Horatio.

"Of course, Horatio, of course," said the Cardinal. "Now, come in, and let's do this the right way." He ushered them back into the church, and hustled Horatio into a confessional. He asked Marisol to wait a few minutes. It was more like 10, but eventually both men came out of their respective doors, Horatio looking lighter, and the priest shaking his head in amazement.

Then to the surprise of them both he took them up to the front of the church, and asked them a string of questions. Horatio realized the priest was basically witnessing their marriage vows. Marisol seemed to realize it, too, and smiled a huge, luminous smile that lit up her face. The cardinal asked one of the visitors in the church to use Horatio's phone to take a candid shot of the three of them before the altar and crucifix. This the stranger gladly did, and congratulated them.

Horatio went to shake the Cardinal's hand in thanks but found himself crushed in a man-hug. "You've done well, Horatio. I think the end is in sight," said the priest.

"The end of my penance, perhaps, Father, but not of the struggle," replied Horatio.

"The struggle against evil is never-ending," answered the cardinal. "But now, if I may offer you a little wedding present, I made reservations at a nearby hotel, just 5 blocks from here. Go on, with your bride, and may God bless you both abundantly."

They genuflected before him, turned, and hand in hand went back out into the New York afternoon. They were both a little dazed, but very happy. Horatio's phone chirped, and checking it, he saw a text with the name of the hotel. He sent back a copy of the picture that had just been taken, and the words, "Thank you".

"Oh, send that picture to Eric, he'll be thrilled," said Marisol.

After Horatio and Marisol returned from New York Horatio struggled to settle into a quieter life. He had to see to Ray's burial, and help Yelena get settled. He had nightmares for a few weeks, but Marisol helped him through his grief, which was hidden from everyone else. She wouldn't let him stew in it, or shut it in a box. She made him talk about it. As he began to emerge from this he realized he had a wife! He was a married man, something he had never thought would happen. Joy started to wedge its way into his life, and he began to just enjoy it. He didn't like to contemplate the man he might have become if Marisol had died that day. Marisol did all she could to make home life ordered and routine. This helped him tremendously, so much so that he couldn't understand how he had coped before she came into his life.

He became a little more demonstrative with his colleagues. He would meet them for drinks occasionally, after a shift or at the end of a case. He never drank, claiming that someone had to stay sober. But he began to interact with them in new ways. They discovered that his pithy one-liners could have a humorous edge to them.

The members of the team, who had been nonplussed by his rapid romance, thawed quite a bit toward the situation as they witnessed the gradual warming of Horatio's temperament. He was as sharp in the field as ever, but they began to see more overt signs of his compassionate nature.

Then came a rare Friday afternoon, when no new bodies dropped, and the team, seeing an uninterrupted weekend in their sites, worked feverishly to complete paperwork. At 4 pm, the new Horatio, feeling expansive, approached Eric.

"Eric, would you like to come to dinner? Marisol would love to see you," suggested Horatio.

Eric didn't want to shoot down H's attempt at socializing, but he did have a commitment. So, he made a decision he hoped would play out. "Callie's car is in the shop, so I told her I would take her home after work, H. I'll come over after that."

Horatio pondered this for a half a second. Then he went to the gun lab.

"Callie, would you like to come to dinner tonight? It would be very roundabout for Eric to take you home first. And Marisol would enjoy seeing you again, I'm sure," he asked.

Callie, also not wanting to discourage Horatio, agreed. "But Horatio, maybe you should at least make sure it is ok with Marisol?" she suggested.

"Ah, yes, that would be prudent," smiled Horatio. He called her.

"Marisol, may I bring Eric and Calleigh home for dinner?" he asked.

Did he imagine it, or was there a hesitation before she responded? "That would be great, Horatio. I've already started preparing it, and I want to make sure there's enough. Could you stop at that rib place you keep trying to get me into, and bring home a rack of ribs, and a bag of rolls? Then we will be sure to have enough to go with the ones I already have cooking."

"Ah, then I can compare yours to theirs," he teased.

"I'm confident," she shot back. "You know I can cook." He did indeed, and had started swimming extra laps to keep up with her cooking.

Horatio stopped off at Eric's desk, and told him to just bring Callie with him to dinner. He mentioned that he would have to stop on the way home, but Eric and Callie could just go ahead at the end of the shift.

When they arrived, Marisol was working busily in the kitchen. She hugged Eric, and greeted Calleigh warmly. They offered to help, which she gratefully accepted. Eric, who of course had been there before, was assigned to set the table. Marisol drew Calleigh into the kitchen.

Calleigh, who was always precise in anything she did was a little startled at the chaos in the kitchen, but she had to admit, everything smelled amazing. Marisol asked her to start serving the dishes to the table. Calleigh noticed that all the dishes had a theme. Just as she turned to Marisol they heard the garage door go up. Horatio was home from the restaurant.

"Marisol?" Calleigh began to ask.

"Shh, Calleigh, I knew having a bunch of detectives over would let the cat out of the bag quickly," she replied. Calleigh felt privileged to be at Horatio's that evening!

Eric and Calleigh expected Horatio to come right in, and were surprised that he didn't.

"Sis, what is H doing in the garage?" asked Eric.

"He tries hard to not bring work home, so he spends a few minutes…compartmentalizing, I guess you would call it," replied Marisol. "He'll be in shortly." She kept working.

The door between the garage and the foyer opened and Horatio didn't quite bound in. He greeted Eric and Calleigh, and gently brushed up against Marisol. He gave her a quick buss on the cheek. Ever the gentleman, he restrained his usual enthusiastic greeting out of deference to his guests.

"Sweetheart, I'm home," he proclaimed.

"Good, the food is on the table, and our guests are here, let's eat," responded Marisol. She directed them to take their seats, and she plated some food for Horatio, who was seated across from her.

To their surprise, Horatio crossed himself, and said grace. As he was doing so he glanced down at the food that Marisol had plated for him. His eyes narrowed a bit at the food before him. Tiny, perfectly formed carrots, baby potatoes, and baby-back ribs. He glanced swiftly up at Marisol who was delightedly dimpling at him.

"Marisol?" he asked, hope coloring his question.

"Yes, Horatio." she answered in a definitive way that was both acknowledgement and answer to the unspoken rest of his question.

In an instant, he was around the table and at her side. He gave her a soft kiss, and with shock Eric and Calleigh realized how seldom it was that they had seen such an overt sign of affection from Horatio. He knelt at her side, and with that curious way he had of looking up and to the side at the same time, he gazed at her face. Horatio laid one of his hands in Marisol's lap and tentatively laid the other against her abdomen. She covered it with one of her own. With her other hand, she caressed his joyful face. Calleigh could swear they were radiating a soft light.

Eric had one of those shattering moments of realization, where too many ideas pour into one's mind. He understood that Marisol was pregnant, which was joyful, amazing news. He hoped that it wouldn't affect her remission. Beyond that he realized he was truly seeing H for the first time. Here, plain and open, was the man that Marisol had told him he didn't know, the man not at work. Simple joy just radiated from him. The moment seemed timeless.

Calleigh gave a soft sniff, and the spell was broken. Marisol reached out her hand for Eric. He took it and gave a little squeeze. He couldn't speak, and apparently neither could Horatio. Calleigh moved from her seat around to the chair next to Eric, so Horatio could sit next to Marisol. Marisol gave him a little tug, and inclined her head toward the empty chair. Still dumb with joyful shock Horatio sat. He grabbed her hand and held on.

"Horatio, dear," Marisol interjected into this serene moment.

"Yes, Sweetheart," hummed Horatio. He was staring raptly at her. He could scarcely believe what she was telling him. She was pregnant! Their baby was growing inside her. Every other thought fled his mind.

"We have guests…" said Marisol, and nodded toward Calleigh and Eric.

Horatio gave himself a little shake, and turned to his friends.

"Well, I guess my cover as 'reserved' s.o.b is blown," he said to them. Then, sternly, "Not one word at work, you two!"

"Yes, boss," said Eric, in a tone of voice that implied anything but cooperation.

"Of course not," replied Calleigh innocently. "And congratulations!"

Horatio mock glared at them, but couldn't keep it up. He laughed, and looked down again at his plate. He didn't think he would be able to eat the little carrots, tiny, perfect little copies of their larger family members. He took a roll from the basket, and started to butter it. This was his signal to everyone else at the table to start eating.

They had a delightful meal, with a lot of good natured teasing about baby genders, and outrageous names, mostly from early Roman history. Eric and Calleigh set the kitchen in order, while Horatio cleared the table. He wouldn't let Marisol stir from her seat.

After dinner, Calleigh and Eric, sensing that Horatio might want to be alone with Marisol, made their excuses of needing an early night. Horatio walked them to the door. When they were out of earshot of Marisol his demeanor sharpened back into the Horatio they both knew and respected.

"I do mean it, not one word of Marisol's condition at work," he insisted. "Eric, can you come over tomorrow? I want to work on security for the house. I have too many enemies to leave her here alone, without a plan. I want to add upgrades to the security system, that only you and I will know about. And maybe we could install a panic room, or a panic closet anyway. Calleigh, maybe you can encourage her to learn to handle a weapon. She always says no to me."

It would have seemed ridiculous but for the events of the past months. It seemed prudent to them both. They agreed to not mention Marisol's pregnancy, but Horatio did have to endure a little ribbing about being a very content husband and father.

For all Horatio's home life was peaceful his work life remained much the same. He and his team still pursued the criminal element in Miami with a dogged persistence. The only change Eric noted was that H was less likely to step over the line in catching criminals. He was still as enraged when women or children were harmed, but he was very careful to deliver the perpetrators to justice as unharmed as possible. Eric was relieved that H and Marisol wouldn't have to deal from the fallout of a perp claiming excessive use of force. Little did he know the heroic level of restraint Horatio was exercising. He wanted to mete out justice on the scum, but he held back, in honor of the cardinal's request. He always returned home and would be very attentive to Marisol after these episodes. She knew what motivated this, and would sometimes get him to talk about the situation in a general way. He would lie next to her and stroke her hair, or rest his hand on her swelling abdomen, and thank God that he had this refuge.

Seven months later Cardinal Benedetti was going through his personal mail and saw a note with a Miami postmark. The envelope was stiff, as if it held a card. He opened it and was delighted with the baby announcement that fell out. There was a small photograph of Horatio and Marisol holding a tiny baby, wrapped in a hospital blanket. The newborn's face had that squished, puzzled look so common in babies. He read the inscription, "Announcing Antonia Caine, 7 lbs, 5 oz" and at the bottom of the card, two words in Latin, "Satis est*" With a start, Anthony Benedetti gave thanks to God.

*"It is Enough"


End file.
